


Long Way From Georgia

by candypinksocks



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candypinksocks/pseuds/candypinksocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first thing Cal notices - the tattoos; the bear claw on the back of Ryan's hand, the tips of what looks like feathers poking out from under his shirt sleeves and he wants to ask, wants to see, but he just holds out his own hand instead, takes Ryan's in his in a firm handshake. He maybe holds on a little too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Way From Georgia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueswan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueswan/gifts).



It's the first thing Cal notices - the tattoos; the bear claw on the back of Ryan's hand, the tips of what looks like feathers poking out from under his shirt sleeves and he wants to ask, wants to see, but he just holds out his own hand instead, takes Ryan's in his in a firm handshake. He maybe holds on a little too long.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Cal will tell you he doesn't play. He's not Hugh. Hasn't faked it for long enough that he doesn't know how anymore.

Ryan turns Cal's hand over in his before he lets go, sweeps his thumb over the back of Cal's hand, runs a finger over the tips of Cal's and it's weirdly intimate, makes Cal a little uncomfortable if he's truthful, but he doesn't pull back, doesn't let go. Ryan's hands are nothing like his and he doesn't just mean the tattoo. They're rough where Cal's are smooth, calluses and divots, almost like scars right where the strings would sit. 

"It's gonna hurt," and then Ryan's letting go, turning his back to go find his seat and the guitar next to it.

"We're just faking it though, right?" Cal follows, takes the seat next to Ryan's and picks up his own guitar. Well, the one the studio got him. It's too new, he knows that just looking at Ryan's.

Ryan looks like maybe Cal said he was gonna kick his dog or something. "I don't _fake_ anything, man, if we're gonna do this, then we're doing it right."

"Okay." They've got today and maybe tomorrow to get it right. He taught himself a chord once a million years ago - just the one - just so he could fake Billy Talent a little better, never kept it up after the movie was done, even with Hugh waving a guitar in his face every time they got together, more then than now.

"Sound a little more convinced, man." Ryan's smiling at him, waits for him to get the guitar seated right, to get his fingers on the strings, to look as if he's even half way comfortable, even if he's not.

Their knees are brushing, feet barely inches apart; it's close and warm, the door's closed and they're in a sound proof booth, the lights low and no one on the other side of the huge pane of glass at the sound desk. There's no one to hear when he'll inevitably make the strings scream and Ryan cringe and it's when he realizes that that he relaxes a little. He knows he's gonna fuck it up, he's okay with that, but at least it'll just be the two of them.

He gets his fingers where he thinks the chord he knew once should be; he's slow, fingers cramping up almost immediately from being bent funny, but it's not going to get any better unless he keeps at it so he does, not one to pussy out, not in the slightest.

Ryan's watching his fingers, not moving, just watching and doesn't even flinch when Cal strums down once and the noise that comes out sounds more like a strangled cat.

"Okay, so that's not it." Cal's smiling and Ryan's scooting closer, his knees between Cal's now as he lifts Cal's fingers, slides them a little along the strings to get them in the right position.

"Try that."

And that actually sounds like a chord.

"Well, shit."

And Ryan full out grins at that and Cal's maybe knocked a little sideways.

*

The next chord's a little easier; Cal still fucks it up, Ryan still needs to put his fingers in the right place on the frets the first time he tries, but after that it comes okay. Not easy, but okay and he's good with okay.

They've got sheet music spread out around them on the floor like a fan. Cal can see where it's been scratched out, written over, the pen almost through the paper in some places and he gets it, knows just what it's like to want to get something near perfect as he can and won't stop 'til he does. He's done this thing long enough, bitten through his nails and the ends of his red pen marking out changes that more than likely won't make it into whatever he's working on, but it gives him a handle on who he's supposed to be, what they want from him, even if he doesn't get to be who he thinks he should be. Doesn't have the pull or the weight for that, knows it's less likely with every passing year, but he still does it, makes who he's supposed to be his own. Even if it's just on paper.

So he gets it, envies Ryan more than a little bit for it too if he's honest. A whole song in a just under two days, and a guy to teach him with more patience than Cal's got any right to expect. Not even close to what he was expecting, but he'll be fucked if he doesn't give it the same respect he does every other piece of work handed his way.

*

"Stop over thinking it. Just play."

Cal's almost all the way sure that his fingers are gonna drop off any minute, his wrists are cramping too and this stopped being anything that might be called fun hours ago.

"I'm thinking this fucking thing would make great kindling." His hand's too tight on the neck and he knows if he strums now it's gonna sound like shit, but he does it anyway.

"Ouch." Ryan reaches between them, covers Cal's hand with his own and peels Cal's fingers away from the fret. "Strangling it ain't gonna make it sound any better."

Ryan lifts the guitar up and away sets it on his own lap and plays the chord like it's supposed to sound.

It's simple. And perfect and Cal's never gonna get it to sound like that.

"Wanna go grab a beer?" It's out of nowhere, but kinda not at the same time. Cal's got no idea how long they've been doing this; no windows, no one but the two of them and he quit looking at his wristwatch hours (he thinks) ago.

"Yeah." Easy as that.

Ryan wipes off his guitar before he lays it in its case with the kind of care Cal rarely sees, but completely understands, watches as Ryan's fingers linger over the strings, draw a line from the top of the fret right down to the end of the body, slow and careful and Cal can't help but stare. Ryan closes the case just as slow, snaps both catches and straightens up, his fingers pulling through his hair as he turns back to Cal with a smile that tells of age way beyond Ryan's years and Cal's fascinated and turned on all at once.

"Well, shit." He's got a feeling he's gonna be saying that a lot before this is over.

*

The bar's the kind of spit and sawdust hole in the wall Cal had no trouble finding back in the day; scratched 45s on the jukebox and American beer on tap. The kind of place that doesn't care if you smoke as long as it isn't weed, waitresses in Daisy Dukes and booths in dark corners under shelves covered with dusty water-filled liquor bottles.

They grab a booth, knees brushing under the table as Cal orders a round and wings, Ryan picks at the scratches on the table, runs his fingers over names and dates, phone numbers carved with knives, a timeline scattered and scrubbed clean 'til it's barely readable.

"See this here?" Ryan's hand's resting over a couple lines of something. It's almost faded to nothing, just the outline and Cal finds himself leaning closer to see. "Someone took the time, thought of something other than _'I want to scratch shit on this table'_ , it's the way you gotta look at playing. Think of something other than _'I need to learn this for some show'_ , you need to _feel_ it. Just like you do with the other stuff." Ryan's grinning as he tips the bottle up, takes a long pull.

Seems Cal's not the only one who did his homework.

"I get it, just can't seem to _get it_ , you know?" He's not admitting defeat, they've been at it a day, that's nothing, but they only have another to make it look good enough. And not just to pass either, if Ryan has his way.

"We've got time." Like having just one more day is all the time in the world and Cal still doesn't get it but he guesses Ryan does. And that's okay, Ryan doesn't strike Cal as someone who puts up with bullshit, giving or taking. "You just gotta trust me and I'll get you there." And there's that fucking grin again. 

"Okay." And it's as simple as that all over again. Sometimes he wonders if it can really be that easy, just say 'okay' and let it be. Sometimes, like now, he doesn't even think about it, just goes with what's going and lets it be.

Cal digs in his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he bought just this morning, three months without now and heading toward another smoking 'til he can't breathe and another three after that spitting on the ground in front of whoever's idea it was to have his character need to smoke two packs a day. He's holding Ryan's eyes the whole time, offering the pack before he takes his own, smiling round the filter as he lights up and this is definitely _something_ , not got a single fucking clue what that might be, but it's all good with him so he's just going with it, cause he can. And he wants to.

They drink four beers each, finish off the cigarettes and a half bottle of the good stuff, call bullshit on each other more than a few times and Cal's got aching sides from laughing and a good buzz going on by the time they're calling it a night. There's a question left unasked in the air as the cab pulls up outside, answered with a quirk of Ryan's eyebrow and just one address given to the driver and Cal's left with all the answers he needs without so much as a single word said.

It's not normally how these things go, here's a negotiation, some kind of agreement at least. Not this time and it's throwing him off a little. Not in a bad way, he'd be lying if he said it was, he likes Ryan just fine and he can see this going more than okay. It's just not what he's used to. And the more he thinks about it the more he's okay with it.

Ryan's place isn't what Cal expected either, it's not _'I won an Oscar so suck it'_ , it's just a place in the hills; two stories with white stucco and dirt and grass out front and curbside parking. Regular. Inside it's white walls and tiles on the floors, cool against the too-warm night air, table just inside with a chipped dish Ryan throws his keys into before he kicks off his boots and makes his way inside, feet almost sliding in his socks. And Cal's laughing as he kicks his own shoes off and follows, doesn't resist skating a little across the floor.

He's met at the living room door by Ryan with a guitar.

"Now you've loosened up some, play what we learned today. Don't think about it, just play it."

Cal would have laid money on this not being how the evening would've ended. And by the look Ryan's giving him now, he's not making a secret of it either.

"Play it," and Ryan's smiling at him, like he knows something Cal doesn't and he's feeling like maybe he missed a couple pages off the script or something.

"Okay." Ryan's fingers brush over Cal's as he takes the guitar, his smile sharp and bright as he follows Cal over to the couch, sits up close enough that their knees are brushing.

"Now, close your eyes and play."

Cal snorts out a laugh, but closes his eyes anyway, blows out a slow breath and just lets it the fuck happen, sure that what'll come out will make his teeth ache.

He pays each chord, one after the other, over and again and his fingers don't slip and they don't cramp up and before too long it sounds like something. It's not anything he's heard before but it's something he'd listen to again and it's not 'til he opens his eyes and sees Ryan grinning at him like an idiot does he realize it's the damn song Ryan wrote for the damn movie he's supposed to be learning.

"Son of a bitch."

"Worked though didn't it?"

Cal plays it again, this time eyes open, but still not thinking about it and it sounds _good_ and he finds himself smiling just as hard as he plays it again and once more for good measure.

"You needed to feel it is all." And then Ryan's taking the guitar out of Cal's hands to lay on the couch next to them and Ryan's so damn close now, almost all the way up in Cal's lap. Cal's struck with how different they are; Ryan's so fucking young, but not really, his mom would say _'old head on young shoulders'_ or something. And he takes a minute to just _look_ , holds Ryan's eyes for maybe a beat too long, but Ryan doesn't look away, tips his chin up and smiles again as he raises an eyebrow.

Cal shifts a little, pushes himself back on the couch. "We doing this?" 

"Yeah, I believe we are." Ryan slides into Cal's lap, gets his hands up under Cal's t-shirt and his knees pressed to Cal's hips. He stops there just like that, callused fingertips playing light over Cal's skin, close enough that it'd just take Cal lifting his head a little to kiss, but he doesn't, he waits and it's killing him a little.

"Don't think about it and just do it." And Cal's not sure if Ryan's meaning the song or what's happening now, but he goes for it anyway, tilts his head up, lips brushing over Ryan's, barely there but it makes him catch a breath anyway.

Cal shifts again, lets go the couch cushions to get his hands on Ryan's hips, digs his fingers into worn denim to pull him closer and he's not thinking, he's just doing and it's not him, he doesn't just _do_ , but he really fucking likes it.

They're about as close as they can get, Ryan's breath hot on his face, his beard rough on Cal's skin and Ryan's fucking hands are driving him nuts, not anywhere long enough, drawing heat and goose bumps all at once and Ryan's kissing him like they're fighting, teeth hard in his lip, tongue pushing inside like he's fucking and Cal fucking _wants_.

He's got his hand in the middle of Ryan's chest, pushes him away even as he's biting back, pulling at Ryan's shirt with his free hand until Ryan gets it, yanks his shirt over his head one handed to toss over his shoulder. And Cal takes another moment then, traces his fingers over the bear claw on Ryan's hand, up across the feathers on his arm, holds on right there maybe a little too tight as he looks up, sees Ryan looking right back at him, his lip caught between his teeth.

Ryan rocks forward then, slow and careful, gets his palm on Cal's chest fingers spread wide, blunt nails little points of pain in Cal's skin and he rears up, kisses Ryan hard, bites at his lip again and Ryan makes the best fucking noise at that so he does it again.

"Yeah -"

There's a fight with belt buckles and buttons, Ryan's zipper scratches the back of his hand and Ryan huffs out a grunt when Cal's nails catch the skin above his shorts. They don't stop, Cal doesn't think he could if he tried and it's as uncomfortable as it can get, no room to move but it's so damn good when Ryan gets his hand on Cal's dick, he doesn't care.

"Fuck -" Cal rolls his hips up, pushes though Ryan's fist as his head falls to the back of the couch, forgetting for a second that he was trying to get into Ryan's pants.

"Come on, man -" as Ryan falls forward, kisses Cal all messy and wet, twists his wrist just fucking _so_ Cal swears he sees stars.

He can't get Ryan's jeans down much past his hips, but it's enough to get his hand inside, get his fist round Ryan's dick and _Jesus_ it's been too long and he's impatient now, for both of them, need clambering up his spine and sweat breaking out in the small of his back. 

He scoots down a little, gets his legs wide and a hand on Ryan's hip, fucks up into Ryan's fist as he holds on, tries to get them moving together and mostly fails and Ryan's laughing, hair falling in his face, all sweat and messy curls and Cal done for between one breath and the next, lets go of Ryan's hip to grab himself a handful of hair as he comes so hard he can't fucking see.

And Ryan doesn't stop, knuckles hard on Cal's belly, cussing between kisses as he falls heavy onto Cal, knees tight round Cal's hips and their fists trapped between them and then Ryan freezes, presses his lips to Cal's real quick before he pulls himself back, gets his hand over Cal's and their fingers tangled. And Ryan's fucking gorgeous when he loses it, head thrown back and muscles straining, all control gone and Cal can't look away, doesn't fucking want to.

"Holy _shit_!" Cal doesn't think he could come up with anything better so he just grins and nods.

"We should -" He's shifting a little, even though there's not really anywhere for him to shift.

"Gimme a minute." Ryan's looking at him now, all fucked out and breathless and Cal's not gonna deny him anything right now, not after _that_. Even if he's got cramp in places he doesn't want to think about and his back's aching like an old man.

"Might not get me off this couch."

"Well, I ain't sleeping out here." And Ryan kisses him again before he pulls himself back and off, reaches out his hand to pull Cal up off the couch. "Studio's booked for nine and I'm beat."

And it's as simple as that.

*

Cal wakes up to a cup of coffee on the nightstand and Ryan looking down at him, hair still wet from the shower and his shirt half unbuttoned. Wonders if maybe they could go again before they need to be out of there.

And his poker face is shit first thing if the smile Ryan's giving him is anything to go by.

"Car's gonna be here in thirty, get your ass in the shower."

*

Cal plays it perfectly first time out.

Ryan tells him he didn't have a single doubt that he would.

 

**End**


End file.
